We met in the fifth grade and I’m convinced that the people who knew us back in the Stand By Medays of life are like spiritual guides in the realm of adulthood.
And I whisper out into the room all of my secrets.
She takes them into her dream and folds them up for me.
She don’t mind.
(I think Amy Turn Sharp must know Tawana and I. Or all girls have a best-friend-since-the-fifth-grade-who-knows-me-better-than-I-know-myself.)
He looked at me like I was crazy. Most of my lovers do, and that’s partly why they love me, and partly why they leave.
we could split a soda
stretch out on the floor
and laugh at the perfect mess
later i’ll whisper out the perfect denouement to you across a crowded room. and you’ll hear me. even if the music is loud.
Take me to the edge of the woods and show me where the world drops off into a crevice. I’ve been there once. I threw my heart like a stone. I never heard it hit the bottom. I think it’s still waiting for me. Soft and slack against a tree root. Patient. Perfect. Just barely beating.